


Three Words

by Sorin



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorin/pseuds/Sorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the words you want to hear the most are the words that are the hardest to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Words

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to If I Stay. You should read that first if you haven't yet.

In the dead of night, Lor'themar Theron slowly rose from his bed, unable to sleep.  That wasn't at all an uncommon occurrence- he often had nightmares, and had since the time of the Second War.  He'd seen a lot of horrific things during his time as a Farstrider, and though he wouldn't have taken any of it back, it did tend to wear on him at times.  The night air was cool against his bare skin as he stepped outside onto the balcony, bare feet silent against the marble floor, and a slight breeze stirred his long, white-gold hair, which fell loose around him.  He padded to the railing and rested his hands on it, then sighed and tipped his head back, gazing up at the full moon and the stars all around.  There was a certain serenity about Quel'thalas, he mused silently, something he'd always missed when duty took him away... something he always longed to come home to, no matter how far he ranged.  The forests were just as much a part of him as his own heartbeat- the rustling leaves, the soft grass, the crystal-clear waters were all just as necessary to his survival.  His love and loyalty for Quel'thalas ran deeper than the depths of the ocean.

A deep breath made him smile a little as the scent of flowers and fresh air filled him and danced along his senses, along with the darker scent of incense and bloodthistle.  He still indulged occasionally, though it was a somewhat rare thing, and on those nights he never, ever failed to long for the days when he was simply a ranger stationed in the forest like so many others.  Since becoming Regent Lord he'd had less time to attend his own training, but he was diligent in the few hours he had to himself, making certain that he treated his body as the weapon it always had been.  He kept his skills sharp and, despite his now luxurious surroundings, he had the same waistline he had when he'd originally enlisted- and the same lean, toned form.  He'd been pegged right away as one who would excel with a sword as well as a bow, and excel he had, using everything he had at his disposal to make himself stronger, faster, better.

In memory he heard the laughter of his fellow rangers, his friends, as they chased each other through the forest and enjoyed their time off-duty.  Too many of those friends were gone- most of them were gone, Lor'themar thought, sorrow slowly draping around him like a shroud as it did when he had too much time to think.  Gone was Alleria, disappeared into the Outlands, along with her sister Sylvanas, who had long been one of Lor'themar's closest companions.  When Sylvanas had become Ranger-General and appointed him her second in command, he was fiercely proud- not only of himself and what he'd accomplished, but of _her_.  Her beauty was second to none in his mind.  She was strong, brilliant, everything a good leader should have been... and when she died, Lor'themar had wondered if his heart would ever recover from the loss.  He'd loved her as the sister he'd not been born with, and sometimes he could still hear her teasing him about dying an old maid if he didn't focus less on duty and more on finding the right woman to further his family line.  The bitter irony of that teasing now made him shy away from the memories- she hadn't married, hadn't had children, and now the only one remaining of her family was Vereesa... and Vereesa hated him as thoroughly as he'd loved Sylvanas.

Memory took him further yet, and he remembered another beauty he'd loved fiercely... and just as with Sylvanas, everyone had loved Kael'thas Sunstrider.  He was their shining, golden prince, supremely talented and frighteningly intelligent.  Some people were just born lucky, and Kael was absolutely one of those on the surface.  He excelled at whatever he set his mind to, and it seemed effortless... though Lor'themar knew the hours of study it took him, the amount of times he himself had knocked him to the ground when Kael had decided it was time to master the blade.  He remembered how horrified he'd been the first time, but Kael had just smiled and stood, determination glinting in his emerald eyes, and said _again_.  He'd never, ever given up... even at the very end, he hadn't given up.  Lor'themar would never forget the way he'd appeared at the end- not only because it had been horrifying, but because it was a good reminder to be cautious.  Even the great could fall, and they tended to land far harder than most.

Another golden-haired elf came to mind, then, one fallen as Sylvanas had- his golden hair had turned white and brittle, and sun-kissed skin had gone gray and waxen.  Koltira Deathweaver was the first of their kind to return as a death knight after Light's Hope.  Lor'themar hadn't known him before his death, but he knew him somewhat better than he wanted to at that point.  As elves revere life, he had a very hard time not cringing from the death knight, a wounded soul trapped inside an animated corpse.  His eyes were blue, but an unnatural sort- ice cold and glowing, faceted like gemstones.  Lor'themar had seen nothing in them at all when Koltira had come before him to petition for the sin'dorei who'd fallen to return to the service of Quel'thalas and the Horde... and he hadn't seen him again after that.  Rumor had it that he'd returned to Sylvanas and pledged his loyalty to the Undercity- which, in Lor'themar's mind, was for the best... and though it was horrible of him, he wished all the others would follow suit.  He could not- would not- deny them the homeland they'd died for, but he felt that they might be better served among those who'd suffered the same fate.

His thoughts turned then to an elf with midnight-black hair and stern features, golden skin and burning green eyes- the current Grand Magister of Quel'thalas, Rommath.  Where Halduron's green eyes were warm and welcoming, Rommath's were as frozen as Koltira's, though he was definitely alive.  Rommath kept everyone at arms' length, and Lor'themar couldn't blame him much for that.  He and Kael'thas had been close friends, and Kael's betrayal had hit him very hard.  Lor'themar had seen him age centuries in days, but Rommath had maintained his steadfast loyalty to Quel'thalas... though he'd feared more than once that Rommath might see fit to return to Kael's side.  He was glad it hadn't come to that, as he relied greatly on Rommath for guidance and knowledge.  Rommath tended to spend most of his time when he wasn't with Lor'themar with Archmage Aethas Sunreaver, a tall, lanky young man with copper-colored hair and enough magical ability to flatten most of the Eastern Kingdoms.  Aethas had been a member of the Council of Six, the ruling body of Dalaran, until Jaina Proudmoore's betrayal of the Sunreavers- and Aethas had brought himself and those of his people he could home, and Lor'themar often wondered if he hated the Kirin Tor as fiercely as Rommath did.

His mind wandered until it landed on another golden-haired figure, another lovely and talented young elf.  While Lor'themar tended to think of Kael in jewel-tones, emerald eyes and golden hair along with alabaster skin, he thought of Halduron Brightwing in the vibrant colors of nature.  His hair was the color of the midday sunlight, his eyes the rich green of the grass and leaves, his skin a lovely tan from hours spent outside.  He moved with the liquid grace of Quel'thalas' rivers, and he could be as silent as a lynx or as obvious as a thunderstorm.  He smiled softly as he thought of Halduron lounging on the riverbank, absolutely shameless as the sun caressed every inch of him, not caring one bit who might see- and why should he?  He didn't have Kael's unearthly beauty... no, his beauty was very earthly, and it was all too easy to imagine what one might want to do with him.  Halduron had never lacked for lovers.  As of late, though, Halduron’s thoughts and preferences seemed to be firmly settled on him- and it had all started with three words.

_If I stay…_

Lor’themar had reached for him one morning not so long ago when Halduron was rising to dress and slip out.  Just thinking of him disappearing into the faint rays of dawn as though Lor’themar were another casual lover was quickly becoming painful.  He’d drawn him down, whispered for him to stay, and Halduron had pressed close as he thought it over- and then he said those three words, his lips brushing Lor’themar’s as he spoke.

_If I stay…_

_You’re worried about being caught with me?_

_We’ve always been careful._

He was glad that Halduron agreed that being careful was no longer necessary, and from that dawn forward, Halduron had stayed with him into the warmth of the sunrise whether they were in the palace or at his estate outside of Silvermoon.  They’d been lovers for so long that Lor’themar had memorized everything about him- the way his lips quirked into a mischievous smile when the chance to nettle Rommath presented itself, the way the sunlight made his hair glow, the way a dark blush spread across his nose and cheeks in the throes of passion.  There was little if anything he didn’t know about Halduron, but that didn’t matter, because with knowledge came familiarity, came routine… came comfort- and more than that, perhaps.  Three more words… three that they’d never spoken.

_There’ll be no going back if I stay much longer._

Lor’themar had only smiled and pulled him closer, and Halduron had stayed.

_I’ve had plenty of time._

His thoughts were interrupted when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind and a warm body pressed against his own.  Lor'themar closed his eye and relaxed as his lover brushed a kiss against his neck and lifted his hands to rest on his arms.  "Couldn't sleep?" Halduron asked, his voice soft and somewhat blurred- he'd obviously just woken up himself.

“No,” Lor’themar said softly.  “Did I wake you?”

Halduron shook his head, a motion Lor’themar felt more than saw.  “Mm-mm… I woke on my own and went to pull you closer, but you were gone.”

Lor’themar looked back up at the moon and smiled.  He never felt more at peace than when Halduron was nearby.  “I was just thinking, that’s all…”

Halduron made a soft sound, then chuckled.  “Dangerous,” he murmured, ghosting his lips against Lor’themar’s jaw.  “What are you planning now, I wonder?”

Along with being peaceful, Halduron’s presence could easily be intoxicating, and Lor’themar decided in that moment to allow himself to become intoxicated.  The dark smell of incense and bloodthistle he’d noticed earlier was one that always clung to his lover, and one that spoke of many things- frequently, it spoke of lovemaking.  Lor’themar was more than fine with that, he decided, and he turned in Halduron’s arms to nudge their noses together.  “Planning?  I don’t know about that… it’s more what I was thinking of.”

“Mm.”  Halduron kissed him, then whispered in his ear, “Come to bed.”

Three more words, Lor’themar realized, and yet they weren’t the three he longed to hear.  Halduron was a free spirit, and that his preferences had settled on Lor’themar didn’t necessarily mean that he was ready to say something that serious… but Lor’themar followed him, let Halduron lead him.  When he was spread out on the bed beneath him, hair shining silver-gold against the dark crimson sheets, Halduron suddenly stopped and stared down at him.  They were inches apart, breath mingling, separated only by a small distance… and when it was closed, when Lor’themar found himself coming undone for him, it was all he could do to hold back.  Halduron was a thorough and determined lover, and Lor’themar allowed all of it, deciding that perhaps holding back wasn’t worth it- and so he held him tighter as the two moved together, and hid nothing when the world shattered around him.

As he was coming down from his high, struggling to remember how to breathe for the intensity of it all, Halduron pushed himself up on shaking arms and looked down at him with a soft, awed expression in his eyes.  “Lor…”

Lor’themar just smiled faintly and slid a hand from his back up to touch his hair, still shining golden in the pale moonlight- not even that could take the warmth, the life, from him.  It was only three words, he thought, and when he said them again, those beautiful green eyes filled with tears- and then they were kissing each other until they were breathless, and the night around them became so much warmer.  Three simple words… and Lor’themar knew that Halduron was forever his- and that he was forever captured.

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> It's been over a year since I wrote If I Stay, and this idea randomly came knocking. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
